Explorations
by TheVampireLestat
Summary: PWP, one-shot, pure smut; Legolas/Aragorn. Legolas POV.


Author's Note: This, my friends, is pure PWP smut. Sorry, couldn't help it! ;) Rated R for a REASON, thank you, and comments and constructive criticism is always wanted! Male/Male slash ahead, so if this offends you, please leave. Thanks, and hope you enjoy!  
  
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"Explorations" Rated R Lemon, PWP, one-shot, first-person Legolas Legolas/Aragorn  
  
I've no idea why I brought him up here. It just seemed .. right. At the time. Now, I can't think of anything to say and he looks like he's bored out of his mind.  
  
"Nice view," he finally says quietly, almost inaudibly, and I glance over to him with an arched brow, looking at the man.  
  
"That's why I thought I'd bring you up here, Aragorn. No one else in our company would appreciate it." I shift my weight against the crook of the tree, resting my back against the rough bark, and look out over the lands ahead. The view from the tree is indeed beautiful; from here, you can see a small lake and the mountains beyond, and the grasses are very green, overshadowed by the failing light of the setting sun. But I fail at finding the proper words at describing it; one would just have to imagine the colours, the beauty, the light. This is heaven, indeed; the most gorgeous man of all Middle Earth is sitting near me, alone, as the fires of the heavens fade into the distance, leaving us in the shadows of night.  
  
"Legolas?"  
  
I turn my head to look upon him curiously. It is notoriously hard to read this man's features, unlike most men, and I've all but given up on trying. "Mm?"  
  
He turns halfway to face me, leaning closer in order to speak more softly. "Listen."  
  
I shut my mouth, half expecting to hear some impending sound of doom, but instead I hear the soft songs of birds settling in for the night, of wild animals digging into their burrows, of mice shifting in the tree. Of course, he could only hear the birds, but I got the point.  
  
"All's well tonight," I mutter in Elvish, and he nodded his assent before touching me lightly on the shoulder.  
  
"I'm going to get something to eat; you .. ?"  
  
I slide down before he can finish his sentence, landing lightly on my feet. Looking up, I watch him laboriously climb down, smiling just slightly. "You men have no grace," I laugh, teasing him. He has quite a nice body, for a man, and isn't so bulky as so many sword bearers are, and this is why I tease, as he knows I am only joking. Now, if it were Boromir, I'd rather keep my mouth shut.  
  
He looks over to me and flashes a grin. "That's because you elves stole it all," he smirks, making his way over to where I stand.  
  
And, for the briefest of instants, I see him as I never have-- well, I cannot say that. I've admired him often from a distance, his grace, his speed, his skill with his weapons. But never this close, and I cannot help but not take my eyes off him as he nears, so much so that I can tell he notices, but he does not seem unnerved. Rather, he gives me a small smile, looking briefly straight into my eyes.  
  
My heart flutters, and I shift my gaze, suddenly feeling a bit weak in the knees. "Aragorn .. maybe I'll stay here." I don't want to follow him, be alone with him, right now; dirty thoughts are already parading through my mind, and I don't want to find myself doing something I know I'll regret; men don't look upon things such as this as we elves do; such a pity.  
  
He looks at me oddly as I lean back against the tree, feeling as though if I were to stand, I'd be almost too weak to stand. "Why?" he demands, arching a brow. I know it has concerned him -- it has everyone -- of how little I usually eat at meals, but they don't understand that elves simply don't have as much need for sustenance as men and hobbits - oh, gods, hobbits, indeed - have.  
  
I shrug; "I'm going to make a circle and see if everything's alright before we bed down," I mutter lamely, looking up at him, then back to the ground.  
  
"Nothing's anywhere around us," he counters softly, and I look up to him, matching his gaze. "Is everything alright?"  
  
"Of course it is." I stand up straight, looking over to him and giving him a slight smile, walking toward him a couple steps. I sigh inwardly as he gets that stubborn expression in his face again, the same one he got when I insisted on dragging him up the tree.  
  
"Fine, I'll go with you, then."  
  
Well. I hadn't expected that. "There's no ne--"  
  
"I'm going with you," he says bluntly, walking by me and pausing when he's right beside me, giving me that look that told me he wasn't going to change his mind, so I may as well accept it.  
  
Why must he stand so bloody close? I can smell his intoxicating scent, almost feel the heat of his body which only makes me want to get closer to him, to hold him, to kiss him, to taste his skin, to have his body pressed against mine .. rather vivid images fill my mind.  
  
Oh, bloody hell. A jerkin and leggings do not do too much to hide erections, I can assure you.  
  
I turn away from him, but he notices almost right away, and I can feel his eyes locked upon me, and I can feel myself reddening. Very quickly. How do I explain off this?  
  
"Legolas?"  
  
I don't dare look at him, just stubbornly set my jaw and stare in the opposite direction. If I ignore him long enough, he'll leave. However, he doesn't seem to get my rather strong GO AWAY vibes, and rather comes up near me, all but breathing down my neck, which doesn't help my situation any. I close my eyes and bite my lower lip, still not willing to look upon him, fearing what I'd see once I did.  
  
Instead I feel the weight of his hand heavy upon my shoulder. "It's nothing to be ashamed of; all of us are feeling certain tensions, and it's hardly to be unexpected."  
  
"Can I help it when the most gorgeous of all men is breathing on my neck?" I growl back, half surprising myself. Sure, why not? Dig my grave deeper; I berate myself mentally, but keep looking away, feeling more ashamed.  
  
I can hear him suck in a breath, though his surprise is hardly noticeable. A long moment passes, and I finally turn, daring myself to look into his eyes. "I'm sorry if I offended you," I sigh, feeling rather disgusted with myself. "But if you'll excuse me .." I turn to go, though suddenly his hand catches my arm and pulls me back, startling me, and I start to fight him.  
  
Though, he has the upper hand, with me not being able to concentrate as well as I normally do, and I find myself with my arms trapped in his strong grip. If I really wanted to get loose, I could, but I don't wish to hurt him, and so I satisfy myself with a glare.  
  
He studies me for a moment, until an amused smile finally pulls at his mouth. "You didn't offend me. Merely gave me hope."  
  
What?  
  
Had I heard correctly?  
  
He could clearly read the sudden confusion that came across my face as I gaped at him, not expecting those words.  
  
Tightening his grip on my upper arms -- perhaps to prevent me from retaliating, though in truth the idea never crossed my mind -- he leans over, pressing his lips to mine, the hair of his short, dark beard tickling my face, every movement of his skin on mine immediately noticeable, erotic.  
  
It takes me a few moments to realize what is happening, and it takes me a moment more to return the kiss, and I do so with heated intensity. I am a much more aggressive kisser than he, and soon I claim the right to lead, and he follows, and he releases my arms, and my hands immediately relocate themselves to his hips, pulling him closer. He melts into me, kissing me back firmly.  
  
What this feels like is unimaginable; a mixture of lust and heaven intermingled, to finally have my lips claiming his, and him being incredibly responsive.  
  
I try my luck further, sliding my tongue against his lips, and he immediately grants me entrance, and our tongues are suddenly intertwined, and it's all so powerful and wonderful at the same time, to feel his body against mine, to feel his mouth open and willing under my lips, his teeth occasionally gently nibbling at my lower lip, making me gasp.  
  
All too soon, it is over, and he pulls away, looking at me almost smugly. I am breathing somewhat raggedly, I can tell, and I look at him-- no, stare at him.  
  
"Where did you learn to kiss like that?" I demand.  
  
I had meant to say something coolheaded and calm about men and their .. abilities, but with my senses swimming that's the best I could come up with. How is he not even breathing hard?  
  
"Why, are you jealous?" he laughs, looking up amusedly into my eyes.  
  
"Maybe," I mutter in reply, leaning down to kiss him again, but he moves his head before I can make contact. "Though I can teach you better."  
  
"You shouldn't be, Legolas-- you're by far the best I've had." These words are voiced lowly, so softly, and he lifts a hand to run it through my blonde hair, trailing it down my chest and undoing my cloak with a flick of his fingers. It tumbles to the ground. "Have you done this before?"  
  
I feel a sense of pleasure in this, and I smile, just barely. "What do you think?" I reply, feeling as though I were trembling all over. "Of course I have. However, I had no idea you were .. " I have trouble finding the words, as he is nibbling and kissing my neck. ".. well .. interested?"  
  
He only smiles at me. "I have been for awhile," he says softly, running his hand down my cheek. "I only wish you'd said something earlier, and .."  
  
"'Earlier' doesn't matter," I interrupt, leaning forward until my lips just barely touch his. He doesn't move away this time. "Now does."  
  
I initiate this kiss this time, and I lose track of time and senses, and all I know is that I find myself upon the ground on top of him, still clothed, as I grind into him, the friction deliciously wonderful, the needy pain in my loins becoming ever more noticeable, ever more prominent, by the moment.  
  
He breaks loose, gasping, and I lean over, biting and suckling at his collarbone, his neck, his earlobes, desperate to get nearer to him. "Don't you think this is a little sudden?" I gasp into his ear, feeling his fingers working at my throat to undo the lacing holding my jerkin on my body, and as soon as it is loose enough, I help him rip the garment off, and my shirt follows.  
  
"Who cares?" He mutters back roguishly, a mischievous gleam in his eyes, the coarseness of his face brushing my neck as he repeats my ministrations upon my own neck and ear, making me shiver. "I just want to get out of these damned clothes."  
  
"I've never heard you say anything more wise," I muse, pausing long enough to sit up upon his body, straddling him, quickly undoing the laces of his own clothes and sending them away. Snaking down again to lock our lips together once more, this time we feel the electricity of skin on skin, but this kiss is brief, and we part long enough to wriggle out of our breeches with speed one would envy.  
  
I will say I'm not the gentlest of elves in bed; in fact, I tend to be rather rough, and I warn my lover of this beforehand, to which he simply laugh, shaking his head. "Don't worry. You can't hurt me."  
  
"I should've thought you'd say that." I put a hand to his chest, pressing him onto his back, spreading his legs to settle between them. -- and, leaning down upon him, I become aware of something I should have a long time ago.  
  
"You're quite well equipped, Aragorn, son of Arathorn," I say with a slight grin, running my hand down his chest and abdomen to tease him, toying with him lightly.  
  
He moaned, just softly enough for me to catch, arching his back. Gritting his teeth, he looks up at me, at my look of merriment. "You are not so bad yourself, O Prince," he murmurs, looking a tad frustrated when I don't take him firmly instead of simply touching, playing.  
  
"I'm glad you think so," I laugh, leaning over to kiss his chest, pausing over one rudimentary nipple to flick my tongue over it, then nip it lightly, causing him to stiffen and gasp, but I don't linger there. My intentions are otherwise.  
  
He pouts when I leave his nipple alone -- yes, Aragorn pouts, though you didn't hear it from me -- but his eyes widen when he sees where I am headed.  
  
Taking him into my mouth, I can taste him, I can taste the salty tang of his flavour, and can smell the not entirely unpleasant smell of his sex. Though, most of all, I focus on his pleasure, bringing him into euphoria, and I toy with him, tonguing the underside, sucking, sometimes pausing until he whimpers, tangling his hand into my hair to encourage me to continue.  
  
Though, I don't bring him to release, and he whimpers again once I arise. "No, please .." But I hush him, lifting two fingers to his mouth to place over his lips, and he immediately takes them into his own mouth, nibbling the tips, sucking upon them lightly before releasing them. However, his other hand, his free one, snakes down to grip my own erection, causing my senses to reel, and I gasp. He pumps his fist several times, and I groan softly, leaning upon him, paused from what I was doing, my intentions that I had before now unclear.  
  
My need is beyond aching, now, and lust and patience are warring like two rabbits fighting to get down the same hole. "Don't .. not .. yet," I manage, capturing his mouth greedily in a kiss while I trail the hand with the wetted fingers down, and I slide a single slender finger inside him before he can protest. He only stiffens, but relaxes, and I add another, pushing as deep as I can, preparing him.  
  
His hand tightens on me, and I bite my lip to keep from groaning aloud, thrusting lightly into his hand before pulling back and resettling between his thighs. I move into him, and all of a sudden everything is hot and tight and swirling and wonderful, and I feel such pleasure so I think I might burst. It takes all my willpower not to tear into him, and I wait, trembling all over, until he moves against me, signaling me that he has become used to my invasion.  
  
I pull out and thrust in again roughly, and soon we are moving together, hard and hot and intense and almost painful, the waves of passion and pleasure so skillfully interwoven, and I feel like I may explode.  
  
"Harder, Legolas!" He arches his back, and I grip his hips, pulling him up roughly to meet my thrust. I look down at him, and see his face drawn up in concentration, in the pain-that-isn't-pain, and know mine must look the same, so well matched, so close ..  
  
He gives in before do, moaning and crying my name as he does, and I only have a few thrusts left before I, too, fall over the edge into bliss, and I ride out the last waves wearily, near collapsing onto him after I pull from him.  
  
Draping my arm over his chest, I lean up, looking at him with a lazy smirk. "How was that?"  
  
He groans, turning his head to look me into the eyes. "Pretty damn good. -- though I think we could improve it."  
  
I laugh. "Is that a promise?"  
  
He only winks, pulling me closer. 


End file.
